


Cold Moon

by Avenged_Amaranth



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/OmegaDynamics, Alternate Universe, Amarok - Freeform, Angry Hannibal, Beastform, Control Issues, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Inuit Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Poor Will, Slightly OOC Hannibal, Slightly OOC Will, Transformation, Werewolves, Will needs all the Love, Witchcraft, Wolfform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-26 14:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avenged_Amaranth/pseuds/Avenged_Amaranth
Summary: For the past twenty-six years, Will and his Grandmother have lived hidden deep within the Appalachian Mountains. On the mountain Will is free to release his wolf form and run the forest on four legs, while Enid guides him in the ways of their people, the Amarok. When tragedy strikes, Will's forced on a journey to find more of his kind, and lead them to the 'promised land' mentioned in the journal of his ancestor.





	1. Minutes till Closing

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is a major re-edit of the original story. I found it didn't quite flow the way I wanted so I've just revamped pretty much everything. I've got the first 12k words written of the story so far but for the sake of brevity will be releasing the chapters in 2k-3k installments. This will be slow burn. And I mean SLOOOW. There will be a lot of Will's background revealed through glimpses of his own thoughts or dreams, and the beginning will start off pretty mysterious. Don't worry, everything is explained eventually. Also, it should be noted that the words Alpha, Beta, and Omega in this story are used more as in the actual dynamics of a wolf pack.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. I LIVE off of encouragement.

It's close to midnight when the truck hits a patch of uneven asphalt, jerking Will awake and spilling the coffee resting between his legs. As he scrambles to properly grip the Styrofoam cup the sign leading into Lincoln darts across his side vision. From the driver's seat his ride chuckles, mentioning something about the importance of lids before turning the heater on full blast - and like clockwork Will shivers.

He'd hitched a ride just outside of Boston, and they'd followed the I 93 into New Hampshire towards a ski resort farther North. Now the dashboard clock glows nine-fifteen, and apparently he's slept nearly three hours. It's more than Will's gotten in a while, yet despite that he feels even more exhausted than before.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a hell of a talker?"

There's a hint of humor in the trucker's voice, like he's made some joke. Will doesn't say anything, just leans his head against the cool glass of the window and watches the way the snow flickers gold against the trucks headlights. There's a certain loneliness in it, like most things in his life.

He'd come down from the mountain in the hopes of finding more of his kind, to ease that loneliness. Yet since Will's found only strangers.

"You know, right... That you talk in your sleep?"

Enid had told him the same thing before... before. Feeling suddenly restless Will settles back into his seat, casting a side glance towards the trucker.

"You smoking before I picked you up, kid?" The man makes some foreign gesture of pinching something between his thumb and forefinger against his lips. "You were saying some weird shit." He laughs and shakes his head, seemingly not really interested in an answer because he starts talking again before Will can reply. "You sure someone's going to be picking you up? It's really starting to come down out there."

It is snowing a lot. Enough to lose yourself in. Instead of dread Will feels some resemblance of peace at that idea, and it manages to somewhat ease his otherwise dark thoughts. "Just drop me off at the gas station."

The trucker clearly doesn't believe him, but he's not the type to pry. "Which one, hot shot?"

It's a valid question but one Will hadn't been ready for. At the same time, they exit the ramp and the first glimpse of Lincoln comes into view. Its rural. Very rural. A lonely strip of scattered gas stations, general stores and junkyards. There's trees everywhere, and the town seems to be more a part of the wild than civilization.

"There." He points to the only sign still glowing neon against the darkness.

The full moon is tomorrow night, and he'll need supplies.

Lincoln sits tucked at the bottom of the White Mountains; and he plans to roam those mountains during the full moon's phase. After the disaster that was the last full moon Will doesn't trust himself to change while in town. He can't risk hurting someone, not when his wolf has been so unpredictable lately.

He'll stick under the cover of the mountains until the moon's phase has passed, and after he'll cross over into Maine and hitch another ride as close to the Canadian border as possible.

The gear shift sticks and grinds as they pull into the gas station, and his ride swears while maneuvering the truck to an ungraceful stop on the outskirts of the station's lights. Boston's hours behind, but the gravity of their current stillness sits heavy in his belly.

He needs to be on the move.

The trucker reaches towards him and Will tenses before realizing he's opening the passenger side dashboard. He pulls out a bag of something that smells familiar – jerky, and tosses it at Will who catches it easily in the air.

"You look like you're starving, kid. It's not my place to pry but try to get somewhere warm. A person can die in weather like this."

Rather than deny the charity Will tucks it into the backpack sitting on the floorboard between his feet. Truth is he hasn't eaten in days, and the jerky will give him strength. Swallowing through an already watering mouth Will mutters a quick but honest thanks before pushing open the door and hoping down from the truck's steps.

It takes a bit of force to shut the door again, his limbs feeling all but useless from exhaustion and his seemingly constant state of anxiety. Will steps back as the truck starts it's slow buildup before pulling towards the main road. The glow of the gas station is a beacon behind him, and through the flurry Will check's the parking lot.

There's only one car at the station, and no one else on the road. The soft call of an owl carries over the silence of the snow storm, and Will halters in his step, his gaze lingering towards the thicket of trees at the edge of the station. He can smell the forest so clearly. He considers shedding his clothes and letting the change take over him; escaping into it's shadows.

But that's the moon talking. It's impossible to shut it out when it's so close to being full.

Shut it out... Something about that sits sour in his belly.

His fingers tightening on the strap of his backpack, Will turns away from the forest and quickens his steps, maneuvering gas pumps until he's at the station's entrance. It's not like most of the one's in Boston, with doors that open automatically, and the handle feels unexpectedly cold in his hand. A bell rings jarringly as the door opens, catching Will off guard. He startles and goes on the defense, only grasping the situation when whispers sound from somewhere behind him. It's two women at the register, watching him with narrowed gazes. They're the only ones in the store, which means their focus is entirely on him.

Feeling foolish, Will escapes down an aisle, trying to slow his racing heart. There's still so much of this that he's not used to. On the mountain things had been different, he and Enid had lived a much simpler life. Things were different here, more chaotic. It's a way of life that Will wants no part of.

Reminding himself of his goal, Will focuses on only that and scans the aisle for anything he'll need.

It will take days to cross the mountain, maybe more, and it's always best to have a full stomach when the change takes over. For the first time the idea of shifting makes dread trickle like sweat down the back of his neck. Feeling suddenly queasy, Will grips a shelf in front of him and closes his eyes.

Near the register the two women who had been whispering about him pick up again, and Will curses his enhanced hearing as their words cut into him.

"Freak."

"He's gotta be on something."

"We're closing soon."

Will doesn't realize those last words are directed at him until one of them clears their throat pointedly. Both women are watching him, but the one directly behind the counter seems particularly irritated. No doubt she think's he's trying to steal something.

She's not too far off, really.

Back in Boston Will had managed to grab one of their wallets in the chaos, but still had a tough time gauging the colored paper's actual value. He isn't sure how much he can afford, and is just as clueless guessing how much everything cost's. His hunger outweighs his hesitation, though, and Will eventually grabs anything that looks vaguely familiar from the shelves. After adding a few bottles of water to his armful he tugs his hood lower over his face and head's towards the front.

The air's sharp with the twang of chemicals, and Will scrunches his nose while the other woman behind the counter side eyes him and blows on wet nails from atop her stool.

"Evening."

Will ungracefully dumps his arm load of junk food and potato chips on the counter while the woman behind the register cuts an exasperated glance to her friend before scanning his things up. Will digs the wallet from his pocket after everything's rung up, panicking a split second before just grabbing a few bills and pushing them onto the counter. The woman squints at the money, clearly annoyed, but doesn't say anything, just hits a button on the register and slides the bills in the rightful place. Her hands move stiff and fast as she slaps change down onto the counters top, and Will hears her murmuring under her breath as she counts.

Realizing he must have given her too much Will tries to hide under his hood, grabbing the wad of cash when she's done and stuffing it in his pocket. He'll put it in the wallet later. As the woman starts to bag his things, Will glances up at the bathroom key hanging on the wall behind her. He hadn't seen one inside, which mean's it's most likely outside the station. His bladders full, but he doesn't necessarily need a bathroom for that.

Will's dying to clean up, though.

He'd escaped Boston after being held against his will for almost three days. It's been just as long since he's had an actual bath, and Will can all but feel the dirt and grime building up on him. The temptation is too sweet to resist.

"I need to use the bathroom. " Once upon a time Enid would have slapped him across the back of his head for speaking so rudely, but this isn't Enid, and he isn't home. Given everything he's been through the past few weeks, the last thing Will's worried about is being polite, through.

The woman eye's him. He knows that she can refuse him, that she can kick him out altogether. It's happened before, just after he'd made the trip down from Mount Mitchell, before his hair had been cut and he'd blended in with the other homeless on the streets. It was the first time he'd really learned anything about the world beyond the mountain, and it hadn't been the best first impression.

The woman surprises him, though, pulling the key from it's hook and sliding it across the counter towards him. She pulls her hand away quickly, like the thought of touching him was something unwanted. "Keep it clean. And no drugs."

Will nods, taking the brown paper bag and tucking it against his chest. The key rings obnoxiously large and heavy, and it slaps against his knuckles as he turns and heads back towards the entrance.

"Rude little shit."

The bell over the door sounds again as Will pushes out the door. Outside the snow fall is blinding, and Will has to wait a moment for his eyes to adjust. He feels along the brick of the building as he makes his way to the side of the station. His feet sink easily in the snow once off the concrete, and the thin material of his shoes become instantly soaked. The chill pushes past the thin material of his hoodie, and overall he's very uncomfortable and cold. It makes him long for the warmth of his fur. There will never be anything warmer.

He'll clean himself up a little first, eat, and then head into the mountain.

The bathroom doors painted black, easily noticeable against the brick of the building. Will's fingers are shaky as they slide the key into it's lock, and with a little effort he tugs open the weighted door and enters. The light's flicker dimly at the sign of life, and Will jolts when the door slams loudly beside his ear.

It's not large, only a single toilet and sink crammed into the tiny space. Making sure to lock the door behind him Will slides his backpack down his arms and sits it against the wall. He approaches the mirror. Not for the first time he finds looking at his reflection unnerving.

On the mountain there had been no mirrors, only the glass from their cabin windows and the steams and rivers. For a long time his own reflection had been strikingly unfamiliar, Will only now recognizing the angles of his own face. Now, staring into the mirror, Will looks more a ghost than man.

He's lost weight over the past few weeks. The hoodie swallows his gaunt form, and his wrist seem bony and frail peaking from it's sleeves. His skin flashes stark and pallid in the flickering lights, and his eyes are wide and frantic. There's dark bruises there, and Will can't tell if from exhaustion, or punishment from the last time he'd tried and failed to escape.

Shaken, Will pushes back his hood and tries to comb his fingers through his hair, but can't get very far before meeting painful tangles. Calling it quits he shoves up the sleeves of his hoodie and turns on the water. He cups his palms under the surge until they're overflowing and then scrubs the water against his face. It's shockingly cold, but it manages to wake him up a bit.

Will takes his time cleaning himself of the dirt and grime, raking wet fingertips over as much of his hair as he can. By the time he's done he's shivering and the hairs on his arms stand on edge. He grips each side of the sink and just breathes for a moment, watching the way the water trails from his cheeks and hits the porcelain.

He's so tired still, nearly asleep on his feet. He'd planned to head up the mountain afterwards, but he's not sure how far he'll get in this condition, especially with it snowing so much. He's not sure if he wants to risk passing out and being buried under the snow. Pushing away from the sink tries to weigh the pro's and con's.

He's hours from Boston.

The chances of the other's finding him are slim. With a full belly and a few hours of sleep he should be better prepared for the full moon.

In the end his exhaustion wins.

Rolling down his hoodie sleeves Will makes quick work of relieving himself. He exchanges one last glance in the mirror before pulling his backpack from the ground and back over his shoulder. The door feels a bit less heavy as he head's back outside and to the gas station's entrance.


	2. Chimera

Chimera : a thing that is hoped or wished for, but is in fact an illusion or impossible to achieve.

The snow is thick and powder-like; different from back home, and Will can't quite make ground as his feet sinks ankle deep before holding. It had snowed on Mt Mitchell, but the snow had been more packed and easily travel-able. He sticks to the salted roads for a bit, but being so out in the open sits sour in his belly so Will stays close to the tree line instead. He's sees a few cars on the road, and has to remind himself that their slow speed is because of the weather and not more sinister intent.

At his back the wind pushes, invading the thin material of his hoodie like ice. There's not much around in way of shelter, and Will's already regretting his decision to rest. In his wolf form he wouldn't feel this biting cold at least. The only thing really stopping him now is not knowing what to do with his backpack.

Will had been sixteen when he'd first gone through the change. Up until that night he'd had no idea that he was was something... more. He'd been told as a child that they were in hiding, the night he'd changed, Enid had revealed everything, or as much that she knew.

Since, Will's shifted nearly every night after, welcoming the pull of the wolf and running the forest on four legs. He'd spend days on end in his fur sometimes, melding so deep with the wolf that Will couldn't tell where he ended and the other began. The change made him feel more grounded - whole, and while in wolf form Will was both aware and in control of his actions.

That had all changed during the last full moon.

For the first time ever Will had woken with no memory of the night before, to a room stained red with blood. He'd scrambled naked through the gore of mangled and torn bodies in search of something to wear, while his backpack had been no where to be seen.

He'd found it, luckily, but the shock of not remembering the change and the idea of losing his backpack - his journal, cut deeper than any wound he'd been dealt so far.

... It's the only thing he has left of Enid.

A howl carriers like music over the breeze, and Will's drawn from his thoughts, pausing mid-stride to listen. Something resembling dread flickers in his chest, but when the sound continues he realizes that its just the wind blowing between the trees.

The storm's playing tricks on his mind.

Squinting against the onslaught of white, Will scans the buildings along the road. It looks like there's a auto repair shop on the other side. It looks old, probably abandoned; with fencing collapsed or gaping in certain spots. There's a lot of cars inside the fence, most likely broken down. It's easy shelter - they're probably not even locked.

The road's empty so he jogs as quickly across as he can without sliding on the ice, and his backpack slaps against his back with each step. On the other side Will confirms the coast is still clear before finding an opening in the gate and ducking down through it.

Once inside he's instantly on edge. The idea of breaching someone else's territory sends him on the defense - even if the owner's long since abandoned it. The scent of the past lingers in places like this, like an imprint left behind of a previous life.

A life incomprehensible to Will.

There's a small house built behind the shop, but it's just as dark and empty. Will wonders if he should break into it for shelter instead of one of the cars. It would be more hidden, and definitely warmer.

There's something about it that wards him away though, and having learned the hard way that his gut never lies, Will instead heads for the maze of old cars. Most of them are broken down, with roofs long caved in or entire doors missing. The stink of rust is sharp against the fresh smell of snow, and knowing that it will be a constant irritation to his nose Will sniffs out a car that doesn't seem too old.

It's also one of the few that seem to be in one piece. He tries the handle. It sticks, but only from the cold, and after a hard jerk the door swings loudly open. The sound is lost over the wind, but Will still looks around before bending forward to check inside.

The seats are torn and shredded, and the entire backseat is missing. The front's still there, though, and big enough for Will to lay back on.

Calling it a win, Will slides carefully into the drivers seat, staying clear of any springs jabbing through the cracked leather. The door does't seem to want to close behind him, but with a little force it slams into place.

His backpack feels bulky and uncomfortable trapped between his body and the seat. Will slides it off and to his lap, unzipping the canvas to get at his food. Back home there had been little variety when it came to meals, he and Enid living mostly off of deer and rabbit. The abudance of food beyond the mountain still shocks him, but there's also something addictive about it that Will can't quite put a finger on.

One things for sure, though - Will loves potato chips.

Its a small pleasure, but one Will greedily takes as he rips open a bag of salt and vinegar and crams a handful of chips into his mouth. His lips are chapped, and the salt makes them sting, but its bliss to his taste buds and Will stomachs the pain.

Instinct tells him to slow down, to conserve, but theres three more bags in his backpack and Will can't resist. Besides he does still have that jerky. Allowing himself only a taste of the latter he finds a large piece before sealing the bag and pushing it deep in his backpack again.

The bold flavor makes his mouth water, and Will chews on the end as he gently pulls out the journal. It's old, and bound with soft leather. The scent of it is like a distant memory somehow, and Will holds it to his nose and inhales deep, closing his eyes. Emotion swells like an ocean in his chest.

Lowering it to his lap Will lightly runs his fingertips over it's cover, lingering on the indented lettering at it's center.

Evette Alger ... Will's mother.

Growing up Enid had been his entire life. He'd never considered the existence of any other, happy under the naivety of not knowing. The night of his transformation Enid had given him the journal, and in turn revealed the harrowing truth behind his birth and their reason for being apart from society.

If Will had only known what leaving the mountain would mean.

Feeling suddenly disgusted at everything Will slides the journal back into his backpack, zipping it up and sitting it beside him on the passenger seat. He leans his head back against the lumpy headrest and sighs. The cloth covering the hood of the car has come unglued, and bulges in certain spots, smelling slightly of mold.

He won't be able to sleep smelling that. Pushing his backpack further away, Will maneuvers his body until he's curled on his side. He rest's his cheek against the cool canvas of his backpack and just lays there, not able to close his eyes. The darkness behind his lids seems menacing and unknown.

He'd been locked in that basement for three days, strung up on the wall and kept awake for no purpose other than torture. Will's severely on edge, and now that the shock of everything's begun to wear off he can feel a surge of emotion in it's wake. He'd managed to keep it together after Enid's death, and again after leaving the mountain. Will had withstood a lot, and all in the hopes of fulfilling the dream that his mother had written about in her journal.

To go on pilgrimage with other of his kind, leading them to their birth place, which according to his mother was a paradise on earth for the Amarok.

The only problem is, Will has no idea where that birth place is supposed to be, and the only other's of his kind he's met have tried to kill him. He's got only one clue, and need's to make his way into Canada, but isn't even sure if he'll be able to get another ride. Given Will's current trust issues he's not to sure if that's even an option anymore.

Back in Boston he'd been desperate, needing only to get far enough away from the situation to access things. Now that he'ss hours away, Will can't see himself putting his trust in another only for it to be torn violently away.

He knows from experience that human's can be just as monstrous, too.

# # #

Will doesn't know he's fallen asleep until something wakes him. It's silent in the darkness, and his body is still heavy with sleep. He feel's like he's in two places at once, some part of his conscious remaining in whatever dream he'd been pulled from. Like a ghost.

The air's frigid, and his breath fogs as he breathe's. Despite that, Will knows that it hadn't been the cold to wake him.

Something faint trails along the back of his neck, like cobwebs brushing his skin. Awareness suddenly rushes through his body, and Will moves without thinking. He jerks away from the window just as a fist smashes through it, aimed at where Will's head had just been. Glaring at him through the broken window is Gideon O'Hara, second in command of the O'Hara pack.

His torturers.

That jolt of awareness thankfully stays with him, and Will immediately shoves open his door and hits the ground running. He hears Gideon curse and call his name, but Will doesn't look back, just keeps his eyes ahead and tires to remember the closest exist in the maze of junk cars. He get's far enough away to feel confident before being tackled to the ground by what feels like the force of a brick wall.

Will's knocked breathless, his ribs aching too painfully to inhale. He hears Gideon sneer in glee at his back, and Will grunts as the muscled behemoth rams a knee into his back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Gideon's tone is mocking, and it sparks a more frenzied rush of emotion in Will, something drove desperate and willing to do anything to ensure he's not dragged back to that basement.

Will's wolf rises up like the answer to his prayers, and its presence rushes over him. It's more a passenger in his skin and not a complete transformation, but it's enough to give him a burst of strength to buckle and throw Gideon away. He doesn't go far, crashing loudly into a nearby car. The metal crushes around the other wolf's body, caving in under the force of the impact.

Will knows a window when he see's one. He runs for the forest just over the last row of cars, moving more swiftly with the wolf's influence. He hears Gideon release a roar of rage somewhere behind him, but Will's already clear of the cars and the forest's just a few meter's away. He can fully shift once he gets there, easily losing Gideon in the tree's thickness.

Will can taste freedom on his tongue. He's second away from escaping when he suddenly remembers one painfully important thing.

His backpack.

He'd left it back at the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I only write what people want to read!!! <3 XD


	3. Bloodshed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted everyone reading to know that I usually go back & edit chapters after I publish them. For some reason I can catch things that way a lot better when it comes to editing. It's usually only things like fixing grammar or changing things to make sure stuff's not too wordy, but if there's ever anything bigger I change I will def let you know. In case anyone's going back & noticing things are ever slightly different lol. Thanks for reading again! Please let me know what you think!

Will can't leave the journal. 

It's ironic. It had belonged to his mother, but the sentimental value the aging leather holds is from memories of Enid instead. His mother may have written the journal, but Enid had been it's story teller. Many nights of Will's childhood had been spent in wolf form, resting in front of the cabin's fireplace while Enid read aloud from the journal's pages. The scent of the leather and parchment is the scent of Enid, and Will can't survive never knowing that again. 

Keeping low to the ground, Will heads back for the cover of the junkyard. He dunks towards the closest car and glances around it's hood. He can still hear Gideon somewhere within the maze of cars. The bulky werewolf had always been loud, barreling his way through every situation. It's a weakness that had lead to Will's escape from the O'Hara pack, and one he'll have to exploit again if he wants to make it out of here alive.

He can sense his wolf's presence in the back of his mind still, and can tell that it's agitated. It must recognize that the odds aren't in Will's favor, and is trying to trigger his survival instinct to run. Will takes a tight grip on his control and pushes the wolf down. 

It's not like he has a choice.

He doesn't stand a chance against Gideon when it comes to strength alone. His best bet is to avoid the other werewolf altogether. The roar of the storm is blazing at his ears, though, and Will can't hear Gideon anymore. He isn't sure if that's a good or bad thing. 

Ducking lower towards the ground Will checks under the car to get a look at the other side, and has to cut off a gasp when he see's a pair of boots directly across from him. For one nerve-wrecking moment he's sure he's been found, but then Gideon moves, turning to head in the other direction. 

Will breathes again, his nerves frazzled. It takes him a moment to recover, but once he does he's on the moves again, crawling towards the car's trunk and sneaking a glance around. He see's Gideon's as the werewolf turns and vanishes further into the lot. Knowing he has to act fast, Will keeps low to the ground as he weaves his way through cars, trying to get closer to the center while keeping an eye out for his pursuer. 

What little he is able to see through the storm looks all the same, and Will's sense of smell isn't much better - not when the scent of snow and rust is so strong in the air. Somewhere nearby a window breaks, and Will ducks down behind the nearest car. 

"Come out come out wherever you are!" 

Gideon's voice carries from every direction on the wind, and Will isn't sure if he should stick to where he is or make a run for it again. He's already made so many wrong choices, and doesn't even know if it's safe to trust his own judgement anymore. 

He thinks about changing into the wolf again, about escaping into the forest. He'd have to leave his journal behind but he could come back for it. Gideon had always mocked the journal, not believing his mother's words. There's no reason for him to take it. 

Will's sure that Gideon will never be able to catch up with him. Not on two legs. 

After meeting the O'Hara pack Will had discovered that the other wolves could only transform on the night of the full moon, unlike Will's ability to shift every night. It had been a big deal to everyone, but especially Gideon. The other werewolf had been the O'Hara pack's Beta, second only to the Alpha himself. Gideon had garnered a lot of respect from the pack, and from his time captured Will knows that Gideon prides himself on being better than others. 

The idea that Will could be better than him in any way had always put the wolf into a rage. Will knows that if he's caught again there won't be a second time escaping. 

"I can smell you, you know!" Gideon growls from somewhere close by. "That same stink of dirt and shit - just like a goddamn animal." 

Will hold's still, trying to block out the sound of the storm and focus only on Gideon's voice. The werewolf had often belittled him during their torture sessions, especially enjoying carving into Will after a burst of anger. Will know's Gideon's taunting him now, hoping he'll give away his position. 

Something crashes again loudly in the distance, alerting Will of Gideon's location and making his heart leap from his chest at the same time. The werewolf screams his name angrily and Will takes the opening to make another run deeper into the lot. He spots something familiar and then, miraculously, he's looking at the car. His car. 

It's like a ton of weight is lifted from him. 

Will makes a run for it, and Gideon barrel's into him from a row as he passes. The werewolf digs his shoulder into Will's stomach and Will's becomes weightless, his feet leaving the ground. He's slammed roughly into a nearby car. Spots fly across his vision as Will fights to stay conscious.

Gideon releases his hold and the rush of air that enter's Will's lungs makes his head pound. He feels himself sliding down the car before Gideon get's a hand around his neck and hoist's him up again.

"Like a mouse in a trap." Gideon sneers over Will, baring down until he's all but crowding him against the car. "I bet you thought you'd never see me again, didn't you?"

Will tries to pry Gideon's grip from his throat, but the werewolf's just too big. It makes Will feel small and feeble, helpless to do anything against him. 

"That mess you made in Boston, how did you do it?" Gideon snarls as his grip tightens around Will's throat. "You made a fool of me. Because of what you did I looked weak. It's your fault Declan renounced me from the pack!"

Will tries to process that when Gideon tosses him aside like a rag doll. Will hits the ground, and though the snow buffers most of his fall it's still a struggle to come to his hands and knees. As horrible of a person as Gideon is, he's also steadfastly loyal to the O'Hara pack. If he's been kicked out, then Gideon's definitely there to kill him.

"It didn't take me long to catch your trail, but I knew you'd be heading North. Still trying to find paradise, Will?"

Will ignores Gideon's mocking tone, searching the ground for anything he can use to fend off the werewolf. If he's going to beat the behemoth, he'll have to do it another way. He can hear Gideon closing in on him again, but the wolf's steps are slower now, like he doesn't think Will stands a chance against him. 

Will's fingers move over something hard and cold, he tugs hard, pulling free a rusted crowbar half stuck in the ground.

He catches Gideon off guard, striking at his knee caps as hard as he can. Gideon releases a bellow of rage and goes down while Will scrambles to his feet. He spots a hubcap a few feet away, and pull's it from a pile of car parts. It's heavy and thick. Will uses it, bring it down hard over Gideon's head before the wolf can get up again.

Hoping he's bought enough time Will makes a run for the car and his backpack. The door's still open from earlier, and Will all but dives in, ripping his backpack from the floor where it had fallen. He's out just as quickly, but when he turns Gideon's there.

Before Will has time to react something stabs sharp against his belly. He cries out, his hand darting out to grab at Gideon's wrist. The werewolf's got his claws in him, and his eyes have changed. They glow darkly golden in the darkness.

Gideon's tapped into his wolf.

Knowing his chance of survival's just gone drastically down, Will tries to concentrate enough to call forth his own wolf. Gideon digs his claws deeper into his belly, though, and Will groans as he loses focus. 

"I can't wait to prove Declan wrong and finally kill you." 

Will's fingers feel numb, and he can't get a grip on Gideon's arm. His hands fall uselessly against his side and Will knows that he's going to die if he doesn't do something. His vision goes double just as the sound of thunder shatters the air.

Gideon jolts against him, and then goes very still. Will's vision drifts back into focus, and he watches as Gideon releases him, moving slowly backward. No, not moving.. falling.

Will has to catch himself from falling, no longer held by Gideon's weight. Across from him red stains the front of Gideon's jacket, and Will makes out shouting from somewhere towards the front of the lot. 

There's a faint outline of someone standing outside the old house built behind the shop, holding what looks like a shot gun. As if on cue Gideon hits the ground hard, falling limp onto the snow. Another gun shot pierces the night and Will jumps, forcing himself into motion.

Someone must have been living in the old house. It had been so run down, though, Will had been sure that it was empty!

He manages to get his backpack around one arm and makes his way as fast as he can towards the tree line beyond the lot.

He's badly wounded, and bleeding. Will can hear the owner of the house still screaming faintly on the wind, but he ignores the noise as he finally crosses the tree line. 

It's darker in the forest, and Will can't quite make ground as his feet sink a good two feet before holding. He can't help but think about Gideon. He's not sure if the werewolf is actually dead or not, and if he isn't then Will isn't going to be around when he comes to again. 

He's sluggish, though, moving way too slow, and Will sends a prayer to his wolf for a boost of strength. If he can just find shelter he may have a chance. Will's been hurt before, nearly as badly, but he's always been quick to heal. He's become weak since leaving the mountain, though. What if he's not strong enough to heal?

Will keeps heading North, knowing the further up the mountain he is, the safer he will be. A trail of red leaves a path in his wake, soon to be covered again by the falling snow.

The forest is almost void of noises, and it unnerves Will, makes him paranoid and on edge. He keeps checking the shadows for any sign of Gideon, sure the wolf is going to jump out when Will least expects it. 

A few feet away something scurries in the underbrush, and as Will twist's to look his foot slides out of place his. He feels himself falling, and watches the way the mountain rushes from his outstretched hand.

His body finally connects with something, smashing into a waiting tree. Will's body twist's and his direction changes mid decent. As he slides down rock and snow his backpack snaps off of his shoulder, becoming lost somewhere in the ride. 

After what feel's like forever Will finally hits the ground. Something snaps from the impact - his leg, he thinks, and Will cries out at the sharp flare of pain. He hoovers along the edge of consciousness before the awareness of the freezing snow against his face hits him.

Will struggles to move, crying out when he tries to put pressure on his leg and it sparks a flash of pain. He falls weakly to the ground again, having a hard time breathing through the pain. 

The snow underneath him is red, and Will must be close to delirious because he finds something almost mesmerizing in the vivid contrast. His wound doesn't seem to hurt anymore, but that's probably not a good sign. Another bout of dizziness comes over him, and Will tries to hold on.

He slips helplessly into the darkness instead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST A QUICK REMINDER:   
> A wolf pack usually consists of 3-7 wolves, lead by the Alpha male and Alpha Female. Any pups or younger wolves comprise of the rest of the pack. The Beta wolf is the second in command, and takes over (as) if the Alpha male dies, or when the Beta wolf challenges the Alpha & wins. The Omega wolf is the lowest wolf of the pack, and usually least cared for. It's often bullied by other pack members & is the brunt of most aggression. Sometimes an Omega wolf will leave its pack because of this, deciding to live alone. 
> 
> Also, that agonizingly sweet, slow-burn romance starts next chapter.


	4. The Forest at Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will comes to in the woods and must tend to his wounds before things take a turn for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an un-beta'd work, which means there may be a few grammar mistakes here and there. Feel free to point them out, if you notice and I will fix anything!

 

**_((I had a LOVELY gif here of snow falling through gnarled branches but I can't figure out how to get it here XD so just imagine it in your head))_ **

 

 

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep,_

__But I have promises to keep,_ _

__And miles to go before I sleep,_ _

__And miles to go before I sleep._ _

_-Robert Frost_

 

 

The first thing Will notices is the snow. It's thick; falling fast from a black sky and building upon his eyelashes. He doesn't feel the cold yet, his body stuck somewhere between awake and dreaming. The gnarled branches twisting skyward above him seems something from his nightmare, but then the memory of what had happened comes back with slow clarity and Will feels the first stirrings as panic as he looks about.

 

He's fallen down a ravine, and the cliff's edge is a good twenty feet above him. It's a hell of a fall, and Will can already feel the aches of his body flaring to life now that he's fully conscious. He tries moving for the first time since waking and pain floods him. It's intense and catches him off guard, stunting the breath in his chest. Will waits for it to recede to a stabbing ache before carefully looking at his wounds.

 

He's broken a bone in his left shin. It's not piercing the skin, which is good, but in order for it to heal properly he'll have to set it... It's also incredibly hard to breathe.

 

It feel's like there's a ton of brick's on top of his chest, and Will shifts to try and relieve the pressure but it only get's worse. He's fractured his ribs, and it's agonizing. There's a cough bubbling up in his throat, and he tries to keep it down, knowing that it will only make the pain worse. The urge remains though, and makes his chest jerk and rumble ever few seconds, and Will grits his teeth through it.

 

He need's to tend to his wounds. If Will can find a tree to prop himself up against he can get a better idea of the damage. He hasn't even seen the one on his abdomen yet, but the sweet metallic twang of his own blood is heady in the air. There's a tree close by, at the edge of the ravine maybe ten feet away, but the idea of  _moving_  is daunting.

 

It's probably going to hurt like hell.

 

 _So, what?_ Will's used to pain by now. It's all he's known since leaving the Mountain, so why should he let it stop him now?

 

Steering his resolve, Will lifts his good knee until his foot's pressed firmly against the ground. It hurts just getting into position, and he tries not to think about what actually crawling is going to feel like. The wound's on his left side, so he'll have to roll to his right.

 

He does it fast, not wanting to give himself the chance to back out, and by the time he's rolled to his front Will feels  _exhausted_. A cold sweat's broken across his body, and it stings like needles in the frigid air.

 

Getting as good a grip on the snow as he can, Will starts to crawl. His broken leg drags painfully behind him, and every bump is jarring, but he doesn't let himself stop.

 

The snow stains red in his wake, and the blood worries him. The forest is dangerous. The last thing Will wants is to draw predators. There's got to be bears in these woods, cougar, and for all he knows Gideon's out there somewhere.

 

And Will just keeps bleeding. He's practically serving himself up on a platter.

 

By the time he reaches the tree his body's drenched in sweat and he's gone pale in the face. He gives himself a moment to catch a breathe and overcome a wave of nausea.

 

Above him a tree limb sways in the wind, and a flurry of snow pushes against his back. The cold seems to move through him, turning his blood icy. He's going to have to find shelter soon. Tending to his wounds will mean nothing if he dies from exposure.

 

Will peel's his bloodstained hoodie away from his body with a wince. There's five gouges low in his belly above his left hip. Gideon's claws had dug deep, reaching down to muscle and sinew. The wound's not bleeding as bad as it had been, but still enough to be a problem.

 

Underneath the hoodie Will's wearing a long sleeved thermal. He can probably use that as a makeshift bandage, but the cloth alone isn't going to be enough to stop the blood flow. The winter is hard and unyielding, though. Any herbs or plants he can use are long dead from frost and Will hasn't got anything to sew the wound with.

 

As amazing as his healing powers can be, they're only as good as he is, and at the moment Will  _isn't_  good. He's alone in the forest, and he's going to die unless he can find a way to save himself.

 

Will tries to remember everything he'd ever read, or that Enid had ever taught him about surviving in the forest. Growing up he'd had spent days alone on the Mountain, just to ensure that he could if anything were to ever happen. Now that he's in the moment, though, it's like Will's memory is failing him.

 

A gust of wind pushes itself between the trees, and the sound of the tall pines creaking echoes in the darkness. The sound sparks a memory of a night long ago, in a forest similar to this one.

 

Enid had wounded herself one day after falling - and the irony of that is not lost to Will.  She'd surprised him, using the sap from a pine tree to close the wound until they were back at the cabin where she could properly tend to it.

 

Twisting around Will checks the bark of the tree behind him. There's a few dried swells of resin - Resin that will help close his wound! He'll need something better than dried gobs on the side of a tree, though. He needs something soft, preferably  _flowing_ still _._

 

Sniffing the air again Will searches the bark for where the scent's the strongest. There's deep grooves in the spot, bear claw markings, most likely. Which mean's will's  _really_  needs to work fast. Knowing his fingers are too stiff to pull away the bark, Will searches within himself for the wolf, hoping to borrow just a hint of it's power.

 

It takes a moment, but eventually he feels the beast rise up from the dark recesses of his mind and make contact. The sensation of his nails curling into claws is strange, like always, but Will uses their sharpness against the bark of the tree, cutting into it. When he pulls his hands away his fingertips are sticky.

 

Will rubs the sap between his fingertips, testing its stickiness.

 

It will have to do.

 

Wiping his fingers on his pants, Will unsteadily starts to unzip his hoodie. It takes a while for his fingers to move the way he needs, but he's eventually able to get the material unzipped and open. The hoodie's thin, yet without it on the cold cuts into him knives. It makes his limbs go stiff and his breathing sharp.

 

Before he can change his mind Will makes quick work of removing his shirt, his teeth chattering. His ribs  _scream_  from the movement, making it hard for Will to catch a breath.  Once the shirt's free he puts the hoodie back on and begins to tear his shirt, ripping along the sides so he can wrap it all the way around his waist.

 

When he's done Will examines his wound again. 

 

It's red and angry looking still, and Will know's he should try and clean it as best as he can before applying the sap.

 

With nothing else to use, Will get's a handful of snow and smears it into his wound before he can chicken out. The cold burns like fire against his skin, and Will cut's off a groan, drawing in on himself from the pain. He does it once more before digging down into the bark for the wetness of the sap. It coats his fingers and hand, and after a moment's hesitation Will begins to spread it over the worst of his wound. It's grueling, and the sap sticks and pulls in places, but he endures it because he has to.

 

He's able to get enough from the tree to cover nearly the entire wound and then using his torn shirt makes a bandage, making sure to tighten it as much as he can bare. The more pressure the better. By the time he's finished he's drained, and Will want's nothing more than to close his eyes and just sleep.

He knows why that's a bad idea, for obvious reasons, but it's still a hard temptation to resist.

 

Will feels boneless, resting against the tree, and he glances down to his still broken shin.  He'd ripped off a sleeve of his shirt, but its not much, and Will doesn't know what else to use for a tourniquet. He wonders if he should try to set the break now. It doesn't look good - all swollen and bruised.

 

It's kind of terrifying, actually.

 

Releasing a soft, stuttered breathe Will leans his head back against the tree and closes his eyes. He's not going to fall asleep, he's just so drained. It feels ever since leaving the Mountain he's done nothing but run. First towards towards his future, and then, from it. He's tired of feeling high-strung and anxious, tired of trying to pretend like everything that's happened has been  _okay -_ or that  _he's_  okay _._

 

... Will can't help but feel like he's lost a little of himself, somewhere along the way. 

 

 

****

 

 

_So, this was the hardest chapter I've ever had to write, not only because of the hardcore (in my mind, at least)survival-type details, but also because this chapter felt somehow more intimate to me, in the terms of exploring who Will is as a character. Originally I was going to introduce Hannibal, have him come in all dashing and save the day - and in turn, Will. As I was writing though, Will's thoughts began to spill into the sentence in ways that I hadn't intended (that magical moment for all writers!) and I knew that wasn't what Will truly needed. I realized that at this moment of his life, he needs to be able to find the strength and courage to save himself. As much as this is a romance story at heart, it is also a story about self-discovery, and overcoming hardship._

_This does mean that Hannibal will be introduced later than intended (don't hurt me lol), honestly maybe not even the next chapter (we can cross our fingers). The next chapter will have a flashback in it, and I'm super nervous about that, so bare with me because in my opinion they're the hardest to write (and get right) XD_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the love of JEBUS please tell me if you like it lol I really am only driven by comments & views. I'm a vain b**** like that.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be adding tags/characters, as we go! :) Hope you enjoy. Also, I've posted this story on Wattpad as well, so if you see it there, don't worry, it's meeeeeee > https://www.wattpad.com/user/BlueRunawayMoon


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